“Or ambition! Will he ever be able to get this money? The Reichstag will not vote it, and the Socialists become stronger daily. How can he get it?” “Well--he might raise the embargo on certain American industries, and as a return favor they might advance him fifty million dollars or so.” “You know that is one of the few things he would not dare do. He cannot afford to antagonise another party--he is as much of a politician as your Roosevelt.” “Well, you see, success in a great war would bind all parties in a common approval.” Ranata was a thorough European in the sinuousness of her methods; but she recalled the picturesque advice of Alexandra to push a fellow-diplomat into a corner and tell him “to speak out or get out.” She fixed her disconcerting eyes on Fessenden and asked deliberately, “Do you intend to give him this money?” Fessenden was not to be nonplussed by methods direct or indirect. His sharp eyes met the strength of her gaze unmoved. “Can you keep a secret? Yes? If the time ever comes when our interests seem one, I shall let him have all the money he wants.” “That is the vagueness of diplomacy.” “I have no immediate intention of putting my hand in my pocket, if that is what you mean. Nor is the time ripe for him to strike.” Ranata drew a long breath. To bridge an interval she asked, “Is it true--I mean in your personal knowledge--that the Balkan states would rally to him in case of a war with Russia--that they share the infatuated notion that he is destined to be the savior of eastern Europe--instead of ourselves!” “I am as sure of it as one can be of anything in Eastern politics.” “And this story I heard yesterday--that he is having his second son taught Hungarian--is that true?” “I heard it in Berlin, but not from the Emperor.” For a moment Ranata hated him. Then she registered a vow anew, and this time her chin seemed to absorb its firm pink flesh. She turned to Fessenden pettishly. “I hate politics!” she said. “I shall play my part here quietly, but there is no necessity to talk or even to think about it, except when I am obliged to discuss some point with Count von Königsegg. Of course, if you have advice to give me I shall be grateful, but at other times please forget and let me forget that I am an unhappy princess imagining I have the fate of an empire on my shoulders.” “I am not in Hungary to talk politics.” Ranata lifted her eyes to his; they were both soft and dazzling. “Why are you here?” she whispered audaciously. The fires in Fessenden flew to his head and flashed from his eyes, but his voice if unsteady came to her ear distinctly. “If we are ever alone for a moment I will tell you why.” Ranata received her first electric shock of passion. He had won again and with her own weapons. Tumultuous delight, amazement, anger, rushed through her brain. She clinched her hand in an attempt at self-control, and it slipped from her knee and touched his. She recovered herself at once.